


Dawn

by DailyDaves



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DailyDaves/pseuds/DailyDaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re on the roof together in the dead of night, staring up at the shattered moon.<br/>Because that’s the practical place where practical teenagers go when neither of them can sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted here: http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/107848106972/dawn

They’re on the roof together in the dead of night, staring up at the shattered moon.

Because that’s the practical place where practical teenagers go when neither of them can sleep.

By now, it’s become routine. Blake tries to hide herself, tacking up sheets and blankets over her bunk to try to block out the noise and light and while it fools Ruby and Weiss, Yang can still hear the soft ruffling of pages, the soft little breaths Blake takes, the rustling of her trying to sleep, and she can still see the ever so faint glow of the flashlight she’s using to read. But most of all, she can feel her frustration, and it mirrors her own. That’s how they end up here, in a honest show of emotions, where neither hides or lies anymore because it’s just the two of them, and what they say on the rooftop is both the truest things they’ve ever admitted and things that should never again be heard by any other years.

“What would you do if your mother was here?”

Blake’s fingers twitch a little in Yang’s grasp as she speaks. This isn’t like when Ruby asks her about her mother or step-mother. This is _Blake_ asking _Yang_ , not Yang’s little sister asking her older sister, the girl who’d _raised_ her. Sitting on the rooftop, with her legs dangling off the side of the building, with the wind blowing at her mane of blonde hair, she was just Yang. She wasn’t a big sister or a mentor or the stereotypical fun party girl she usually was. She didn’t have to be any of that, and there was no room for facades or half-smiles and partial-lies.

So the only thing Yang says is, “Which mother?”

Because she’s had two, she’s always had two. And they both left her the same way.

Yang catches a glimpse of Blake’s yellow eyes, the color seeming to glow in the darkness, “Who would you be angrier at?”

It’s a hard question. She can’t choose, and she never will be able to, “The same amount for both of ‘em, I think.”

Blake nods, satisfied with the answer, and the returned silence means it’s Yang’s turn to ask a question.

“What do you want to happen?”

She watches Blake kick her legs, swinging them like a child as they sit on the rooftop. She watches Blake’s ribbon, tied around both of their wrists as it flutters in the wind. She watches the lights flicker out in the distance, cramming students finally going to sleep, and she thinks back to Ruby and Weiss, happily asleep in their bunk-beds. She’s made sure that Ruby should never have a care in the world, should never feel pain other than a needle-prick or a papercut. Yang carries the weight for both of them, covering it with her party-girl guise.

And then Blake came along. Blake who understood. Blake who saw the weight of the world on Yang’s shoulders. Blake who carried her own weight. Blake who somehow completes Yang, even though she wasn’t incomplete before.

“That’s a big question. I guess I don’t want the sun to come up.”

That gets a giggle out of Yang, “I can agree with that. This _is_ incredibly romantic.”

“I’m a fool for romance, Yang,” Blake deadpans right back at her, and they both laugh.

Blake sighs, then, and looks back to the shattered moon, “I don’t know exactly what I want. Equality. That’s too broad, though. I want to be treated like everyone else is. I want the world to be a safer place. All my ideas are big and vague, but I don’t know what it is specifically I want. Like you—you don’t know what you want either, right? You’re looking for you mom but you’re angry at her.”

“Yeah,” It hits a note with Yang because it’s true. She doesn’t know what she wants. This is the most honest she’s ever been with herself, and it brings her back to the trip with Oobleck and how he’d asked why she was here, at the school. She didn’t know what she wanted.

“How about we just leave it at not wanting the sun to come up?” Yang suggested, squeezing Blake’s hand.

“Hm,” Blake hums. “Clear, concise, narrow enough—I like it. I don’t want the sun to come up and I want to sit here with you to make sure it doesn’t.”

Yang smiles and relaxes, leaning back and speaking softly, “Agreed.”


End file.
